MacFarlane's Ridge (25 page)

Pushing the thought from her mind, she glanced up at Rob. “Rob,” she said softly. “I’m very glad to see you.” Impulsively, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Aye,” he smiled, with a look of surprise. “I’m verra glad to see you as well, lass.”

“Good.” Cam watched him a moment longer, and then cleared her throat delicately. “So. How do we spend our day while they, er, get to know one another?”

He took by the elbow and steered her through the tavern’s dimly lit common room. “Would you like to see
The Lady Meg
?”

“I would love to,” she admitted. She had been on Seth’s speedboat, up and down the Ashley and Cooper Rivers in Charleston, but had only seen replicas of eighteenth-century sailing vessels on the Discovery Channel. As they left the inn, she noticed Martha staring admiringly at Rob. He certainly did attract attention.

As they strolled up the wharf, occasionally Rob would stop to chat with sailors or British officers. Everyone seemed to know him. He introduced her politely as “My companion, Mrs. Clark from Charleston.”

“Why Mrs. Clark? I’m not married,” she whispered.

“Because, lass,” he replied, “the use of
Mrs
. implies a certain degree of respectability, aye?”

Richmond was entirely different from life on MacFarlane’s Ridge. Men tipped their hats to her pleasantly, and Cam felt like she was walking through a movie set. There were few women about, and most of them seemed to be fishwives or prostitutes, even as early as it was. Cam wondered which of them was the rightful owner of the green dress.

“There she is,” Rob announced.

“Who?”

“
The Lady Meg
. She’s the green one with the white band at the water line,” he indicated.

Cam had been so busy people-watching that she hadn’t even noticed they were at the ship. “Wow!” she blurted out.

Rob just looked at her. “I take it she meets your approval?” he asked dryly.

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. She’s beautiful.”

“Come on up and ye can meet Dom Thibodeaux.”

“Who’s he?” she asked, as he guided her up the plank.

“The captain.”

“I thought you were the captain,” she said, perplexed.

“Nae,” he shook his head. “I’m the mate, and I just happen to own half of the ship. My uncle Andrew owns the other half. Thibodeaux is one of the finest captains on the sea.”

As she stepped down onto the deck, she looked up in amazement. The thick white sails had been unfurled, and there were men climbing in the rigging above.

“What are they doing up there?”

“Making sure the sails are in order. If there’s a tear, it has to be mended before we go out. Nothing ends a voyage faster than a sail with a great hole in it,” he said with a wry grin.

Cam shivered at the idea. A young boy bounded up to them. He looked about nine years old.

“Master Robbie!” he shouted. Rob scooped him up, ruffling the boy’s carroty hair.

“Jamie Fleming! How are ye, lad?”

“Well enough, sir. Jackie MacLachlan died.”

Rob set the boy down on the deck. “What happened to young Jackie?”

Jamie shrugged. “Us boys got drunk one night, celebratin’ back at Epiphany, and Jackie went to relieve hisself, an’ fell off the poop deck. Jackie couldna’ swim, ye ken. By the time we noticed him missing, he was drowned. They wanted me to go in an’ fetch him, but I’d drunk too much ale myself. He bobbed about like a cork until we could drop a rope around him an’ fish the poor bugger out.”

Rob shook his head sadly. “Tis a shame. Did Thibodeaux send word to his family?”

“Aye, and a pouch o’ gold for their loss as well. They willna’ miss him much, truth be told. They got ten other mouths to feed,” said Jamie matter-of-factly.

Rob glanced at Cam. “Jackie was a cabin boy like young Jamie here. He and his brother joined up with us back in Wilmington, was it?”

“Aye, ‘twas their first trip out.” The boy looked at Cam proudly. “I been at sea since I was seven.”

She smiled wanly. “How old are you now, Jamie?”

“About eleven, I suppose, though I dinna know for certain,” he admitted. He glanced up suddenly. “Must go, Master Robbie. Young Jackie’s brother looks about to get strangled in the riggin’.”

The boy clambered up the ropes, barefoot, shouting a slew of profanity at the errant MacLachlan brother entangled above him. 

“The face of an angel, the mouth of a sailor,” she murmured, astounded.

“Aye, but Jamie’s a good sort,” said Rob. “If he wasna’ a sailor he’d be long dead before now. Thibodeaux fished him out of a Glasgow gutter.”

Cam was appalled. “Where are his parents?”

Rob grinned. “Where are they? The lad doesna even know who they are, let alone where. Come, I’ll give ye a tour of
The Lady Meg
before we go find Thibodeaux.” They strolled leisurely around the deck, with Rob pointing out the different sails and masts to her, in addition to introducing her to no less than two dozen sailors. After hearing about mizzen masts, topgallant sails, and something Rob called a
stuns’l yard
, she was thoroughly confused.
Time to change the subject
, she thought determinedly.

“I had heard it was bad luck to allow a woman on a ship,” she said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He snorted. “Some women are bad luck whether they’re on a ship or no’. My first captain, a man named Ramsay, wouldna’ allow a woman anywhere near his ship. One time, he got boarded by a female pirate, and after she had raided his cargo he had the lads spend the next three days swabbin’ the decks, and made the priest sprinkle holy water all over the bloody ship.”

Cam stared at him. “A female pirate?”

“Aye, a woman named Bonney something-or-other, but that’s been fifty years ago. Dinna fash about it, I’m sure she’s long gone by now, lass,” he teased.

Cam remembered once seeing a book in the shop in Charleston about a pirate named Anne Bonney. “Didn’t she escape hanging because she was pregnant?”

“Aye, that’s the one. Obviously she wasn’t bad luck for everyone on her ship,” he said. “And this is the stern, and that is the great cabin, where our delightful Captain Thibodeaux makes his home. Shall we?”

Without knocking, Rob entered the captain’s cabin. “Dom!” he called.

Thibodeaux was poring over charts and maps on the table when they entered. Catching notice of Cam, he bowed deeply.

“
Mademoiselle
,” he smiled. “’Tis a pleasure. Robert, please tell me this lovely creature has not done anything so foolish as marry you?”

Cam felt herself turn crimson, and Rob coughed politely. “Nae, Dom, she’s far too clever for that. This is Mrs. Cameron Clark, a friend of my family’s.”

Thibodeaux kissed her hand gallantly. “A friend of Robert’s family is a friend of mine,
oui
?”

Cam smiled, and tried not to stare. While Rob was tall, the captain was easily six inches taller. Thibodeaux was quite a handsome specimen, the tattoos notwithstanding.
He’s Queequeg from Moby Dick
, she thought,
only he’s speaking with a French accent.

He offered them glasses of thick brown rum. It was heavenly.

They chatted for a while, mostly about mutual acquaintances and the upcoming shipment of tobacco to Jamaica. When the bottle was nearly empty, Robert took her aside. “I’m sorry to do this to ye, lassie, but I have some business I must discuss with Dom in private. D’ye mind if I have young Jamie keep ye company out on deck?”

“Er, no, that’s fine.” Cam waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure Jamie’s busy up in the mizzen top-thingies. I’ll be all right out there by myself.” She realized, standing up, that she was a bit dizzy.
Hmm. That’s good rum
.

Rob sighed. “Lass, ye dinna ken the first thing about men, if that’s what ye think, and ye obviously know even less about sailors. I canna leave ye alone out there, any more than I could leave a plate of meat in front of my dog and expect him no’ to eat it.”

“Everyone was very respectful when we were walking around earlier,” she argued. Her mouth felt fuzzy.

“Aye, that they were,” he agreed. “And they’ll be equally respectful to ye now, as well. Jamie!” he bellowed. The boy materialized out of nowhere.

“Aye, sir?”

Rob guided Cam toward the boy. “Please keep Mrs. Clark out of the way of the crew, if you would, Jamie. She’s had a bit too much rum, and she’s not been around sailors over much, ye ken.”

“Och,” the boy’s eyes widened. “She’s a lady, then!”

“She is,” nodded Rob gravely, “and the lads will treat her as such, aye?”

“Rob,” Cam whispered. “What is going on? Of course I’m a lady, what else would I be in this dress? A man?”

He took her hands gently. “Lass, I think this is another matter of language differences between the two of us, aye? Here we use the term
lady
to differentiate not from a man, but from a woman who is…
not
a lady.”

“Whores!” piped up Jamie helpfully. “There’s a warty one named Isabel on the docks who’s got a dress just like the one ye’re wearin’.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” said Rob. “Go.” He shut the door behind them, and Cam heard it latch.

She glanced down at the scraggly boy. “So, Jamie. Tell me some more about life on a ship.”

Half an hour had passed when Rob finally rose to his feet and shook Dom Thibodeaux’s hand. Dom was like a brother to him, and they had been sailing together for over ten years.

“Ye’re a good man, Dominic. I appreciate your help in dealing with Sinclair.”

“’Tis not a problem, Robert. I know you would do the same for me, were I to ask,” he smiled.

“Aye, ye can be certain of it. He’s a dangerous fellow, and smart as well,” He paused for a moment. “Dom, d’ye hear someone sobbing?”

When Rob exited the cabin, he was astounded. The cabin boys and quite a few older sailors surrounded Cam, who was perched on a coil of thick hemp rope. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

Jamie was red-faced, and quite mortified. “She was already drunk when ye brung her out here, Master Rob, ye ken that?” he announced defensively. “We didna’ do nothin’ to her. She just started greetin’ away like that!”

“Aye, well, she’s been through a lot lately.” Rob murmured.

“She doesna’ make a great deal o’ sense at all,” Jamie grumbled. “But she’s verra nice, Master Rob, when she’s no’ cryin’. Ye should keep her around a bit, aye?”

Cam looked up at Rob. “Oh, Robert,” she sniffled, eyes red. “What am I going to do?”

“Come along, Cameron Clark. Ye’ll be keeping the lads away from their work, and as pitiful as ye may be, I dinna pay them to stand about tryin’ to comfort ye.”

She buried her face in her hands. “I’ll never make it home.”

He glanced around at the men and boys who were eavesdropping politely. “Off with ye, lads. Back to work.” He lifted her gently off the coil of rope. “We’ll get ye home.”

She sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry, so sorry about everything, Rob! It’s all my fault Wayne came and hurt Ian and bashed poor sweet Mollie in the head,” she moaned.

“Now is not the time to talk about this, lass.”

“Okay. Why are we in such a hurry, Rob?” Cam wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, trying to catch her breath.

“I’ll wager ye normally dinna drink so much rum, lass?”

Cam burped daintily. “I normally don’t drink rum at all.”

“I should hope not, if it makes ye so bloody miserable,” he said coolly, guiding her down the plank to the dock. The British officer was still at his post, and eyed Cam appreciatively.

“Is the lady not feeling well, MacFarlane?” he asked.

“If she isna’ sick now, she will be soon enough,” Rob grumbled.

Cam stopped short. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I canna imagine why. Shall I carry ye over my shoulder back to the Captain Carter?”

“I can walk,” she sighed.

“Well, ye’ll need to be walking a good deal faster. We have to get ye back to the inn and sobered up.”

“Why are you suddenly in a hurry?”

He took her elbow and steered her through the crowd. “Stop behavin’ like a child. An’ the hurry is because we have a bit o’ company.”

Cam looked behind her. She didn’t see anyone who looked dangerous. “Is it pirates?” she whispered, horrified.

“Nae, lass, worse. Your friend Mr. Sinclair is here in Richmond.”

Cam froze, and the fear that Sinclair’s name brought replaced the warm, fuzzy feeling of the Jamaican rum. “Here? Where? How do you know?” she asked.

Rob led her through a cobblestone alleyway. “Because at every farm and settlement between the Ridge and Richmond, I left word for him that this is where ye would be.”

Cam paused, staring at him. “Why on earth would you do that?”

Patiently, he said, “The only way to know where he was going was to lead him to ye, lass.”